


Back to You

by darklingdawns (Morgana)



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Cas-whumpage, M/M, unapologetic schmoop, underage sexual contact
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2013-02-10
Updated: 2013-02-10
Packaged: 2017-12-28 20:17:01
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 4
Words: 7,842
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/996121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Morgana/pseuds/darklingdawns
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Castiel is looking for a way to distract Dean from his upcoming ritual, he does what any bad guy would do - he takes Sam. Dean has to try to find a way to get his brother back, no matter what. Even if that means making a deal with the King of Hell.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> Art for fic [here](http://sterekbros.tumblr.com/post/60124935554). Amazing art! Unfortunately this edited fic was lost due to a corrupted drive and was never re-edited. I'm sure somewhere I have a raw file if you're interested in reading the entire story. Please email me at liamelessar@gmail.com if you would like to read it!

"I wish it hadn't come to this," Castiel said gravely. "Rest assured, when this is all over, I will save Sam, but only if you stand down."

Sam's confusion matched Dean's as his brother asked, "Save Sam from what?"

But Castiel didn't answer. Instead, he disappeared. Sam was about to ask where he'd gone when he felt the firm press of fingers against his temple. He had just enough time to say, "Dean -" before the world dropped out from under him.

One second, he was looking at his brother, staring into green eyes, and the next he was standing... somewhere. Where was he? Sam turned around to look, swallowing hard as his stomach tried to protest the sudden change of location. "Dean?" he called, but there was no reply from his brother. "Bobby?" No answer. Sam tried "Dean?" Finally, in desperation, "Cas?!?"

There was no answer but the far-off, discordant wail of an ambulance siren, and Sam realized that, wherever he was, he was alone.

He was left with no choice but to start walking. Guys his size tended to draw too much attention, especially when they were standing around looking lost, and he had no real desire to try to explain to some police officer that he had no clue where he was because an angel had done something to him. The first commitment to a mental hospital for telling the truth had been funny; the second wouldn't be.

Halfway down the block, he collided with someone - or maybe they collided with him. Either way, Sam reached out to steady them, apologizing automatically. "I'm sorry."

"Whatever," was the brusque response. "Just watch where the hell you're going, wouldja?"

Shit, it was a kid. And one with a chip on his shoulder the size of Montana, to boot. Sam was about to step aside and let him pass when he saw him reach up to straighten the cord around his neck. A familiar black cord, with an even more familiar gold charm dangling down from it. A charm that wasn't like any other he'd seen before. His stomach twisted at the sight of it and he reached out to grab the kid's arm before he thought. 

"Hey, lemme go!"

Sam ignored the cry, holding on tight when he tried to twist away. "Where did you get that?" he demanded. When the kid scowled at him, he repeated. "The necklace. Where'd you get it?"

"My brother gave it to me," he spat. "It was a Christmas gift and he didn't steal it, so back the fuck off!"

His brother. A Christmas gift. There was no way - but when Sam stared down into green eyes, he knew it had to be. Those eyes were identical to the ones that had locked on him right before Castiel did... whatever he'd done to him, although these were more open and not quite as sad and weary.

There was no denying it. Somehow he'd ended up back in time, and he was staring at a much younger version of Dean. A version that, as he watched, looked him over, then gave him a smile that made him feel distinctly uneasy. "So... you looking for a date, or what?"


	2. Chapter 2

Dean was not having a great night. It was bad enough that Dad was almost a week late, which meant they were running low on food, but he'd had a hell of a time sneaking away from the motel room without Sam noticing and asking ten thousand questions that Dean really didn't want to answer about where he was going and what he was doing. He was going to have enough to do to explain where the money for food came from tomorrow, assuming he made enough tonight. Hopefully he could get Lucky Charms for breakfast, so Sam would be too excited to care about how he'd gotten them. But first he had to get the money, and that wasn't easy to do.

Dad had been teaching him to hustle pool, and Bobby had showed him how to pick pockets last year, but both of those were risky. He didn't look old enough to get into most bars, and if he got caught stealing, he'd go straight to juvie and Sam would end up in foster care. And Dad would kill him when he got back for failing to take care of Sam, like he was supposed to. So that just left one option, and while it wasn't one he was all that comfortable with, it wasn't like he'd never thought about it before. Besides, he knew how to keep himself safe - he had his knife in his boot and Sam's butterfly knife in his pocket. Just let some asshole try to mess with him.

Of course, he hadn't figured on running into a huge motherfucker a couple of blocks from the motel. Or getting grabbed and manhandled like this. But at least he wasn't getting jumped, so maybe he could still come out on top. Besides, the guy might be a jerkoff, but he wasn't bad-looking. And he wasn't old - or at least, not totally gray and disgusting old. Dean licked his lips and gave him the same look Suzie Jensen was always giving him. "What're you into, anyway?"

"Uh, I'm not - I mean, you're kinda… young, aren't you?" the guy stammered, looking like he'd just eaten something that disagreed with him.

Not a pedo, then. He guessed that was a good thing, even if it did make his job a little harder. Dean shrugged. "I'm sixteen," he lied, tacking two years onto his age. "And you don’t have to worry about it. I can take care of myself just fine." He gave him another one of those looks. "And you, too, if you're up for it."

The guy swallowed hard, then dug into his pocket and pulled out a wad of bills thick enough to take care of him and Sam for at least a month, maybe two if they were careful. "How much do you need?"

He tried not to think about what he was probably going to have to do for that money. "Depends on what you want as to how much it costs," he shot back. "But I'm not cheap and we should probably get outta here before someone sees you paying me."

"Take it," the guy insisted, peeling several bills off before he shoved the rest of it at him. "You don't have to - I mean, I know you're not… cheap, but you shouldn't - just take it, okay?"

The offer burned like acid on the back of his tongue. Winchesters didn't take handouts - that had been drummed into him from a young age, and he'd never needed anything like that to take care of Sam before. He wasn't about to start now, not when he could work for what they needed. "I'm not some fucking charity case, you know."

"It's not charity!" he protested. "It's - look, I have a brother too, okay? He took care of me when we were young, and he'd - he'd want to know you guys were taken care of."

He might say that, but Dean saw the way his eyes drifted down to his mouth. He licked his lips and looked up at him through his lashes. "Yeah, well, I bet your brother knows what it's like since he took care of you. And he probably wouldn't just take money for nothing either."

The guy flinched, ever so slightly, and Dean could see that he'd hit a nerve. "Please," he said hoarsely. "Please, don't turn it down."

Dean was tempted to just grab the money and run, take off and hightail it back to Sammy, who was waiting for him to bring back groceries so the kid could eat in the morning. He glanced at the cash, then at the guy who was offering it to him. There was something about him that he felt he could trust, something that made him different from the usual mark. "Either you let me earn it or you leave me alone so I can find a paying john."

He could've sworn he heard the man mutter, "Still gotta be stubborn, don't you?" but before he could ask him what he meant, he nodded. "Fine. Have it your way. Why don't I walk you back to your place?"

"I know a place near mine where we can get a room," he countered. The john might seem trustworthy, but there was no way Dean was taking him back to the apartment where Sammy was sleeping. He could handle himself, he wasn't worried about that, but he wasn't going to let any of this come anywhere near his brother. "You're paying, and it's not coming out of my money," he said as he started walking back towards the no-tell motel that was only a couple blocks from the apartment. "No bareback, no kink, and no kissing," he added, laying out the rules he'd promised himself he wouldn't break. At least not for a hell of a lot of money.

His words pulled his customer up short, and Dean turned around to see him staring wide-eyed at him. "You - you want to get a room?" The guy sounded like he'd suggested gutting a baby deer or something. Great, just what he needed, some nervous straight married man.

"You want to do it in the alley?" And he really hoped he didn't say yes, but he guessed he could get done faster that way.

"God, no!" The affronted response actually made him smile. It was so much like Sam's response when Dean suggested blowing off school to catch a movie. "Look, I know you said you don't kiss, but what if I gave you the whole thing? Would you change your mind then?"

He had to stop to consider that. Kissing wasn't exactly what he'd planned on when he came out tonight. It was something... personal, and Dean didn't really want his first kiss to come from some guy that was paying for it, but it was also a lot easier than trying to blow him or anything like that. Although a part of him almost preferred the blowing - it was honest, at least. Not pretending something he didn't feel, which was what kissing seemed like. Still, beggars couldn't be choosers. He shrugged. "Your money, man."

The man nodded and they started walking again. "So what's your name?" Dean finally asked, pushing his hands into his pockets without looking at him. He figured he should at least get that from him, seeing as they were about to get a hell of a lot friendlier than just walking together.

"Sa - uh, Sanderson." Fake name. Definitely married, then. "What's yours?"

"Dean." He realized too late that he probably should've given him a fake name in return, but he liked his name too much to lie about it. Besides, first names were safer than last - it wasn't easy to find one person when you only knew their first name. And there was no way in hell he was giving this guy his last name.

"Nice to meet you, Dean." Sanderson smiled as though he was laughing at some private joke, then asked, "So what are you doing out here, anyway? You're kind of young to be on the streets."

Shit. He hadn't realized he'd need to come up with a cover story. For half a second, he considered telling him the truth, if only because he looked like a nice guy and he didn't want him to get his face eaten by a hellbeast, but that would probably just turn him off and he'd either run away or drag him off to social services or something. "My dad's out of town on business and my mom's dead, so I'm taking care of my brother."

For a minute, he didn't say anything, and then he commented, "That's gotta be tough." He seemed almost sad as he added, "I bet your brother's really glad he has you."

Dean wondered what had happened to the brother Sanderson said had taken care of him. He thought about asking, then figured that families probably weren't the best lead-in for this kind of thing. Besides, what if the dude was dead? Probably not - he was more than likely married to some girl and living somewhere else. Most brothers weren't like him and Sammy, where they didn't need anyone else, he knew that. He shrugged and led him over to the postage-stamp sized park a block away from the apartment. "Here," he said firmly. He wasn't letting this stranger get one step closer to Sammy.

"Yeah, okay." He dug into his pocket and pulled out the money, then handed it to Dean. "Um, here."

Dean counted the bills, more than a little surprised by just how much he'd been given. He shoved them in the inside pocket of his jeans and shifted from one foot to another, not quite sure how to start. "Why don't you sit down?" he suggested. "You know, so I don't break my neck trying to reach you."

He chuckled and sank down onto the bench. "Sorry. I'm not really used to that kind of height difference." That was a surprise, since Dean was pretty sure there weren't a lot of six-feet tall women around, and this guy didn't exactly seem like the type to hook up with supermodels.

Once he was sitting down, Dean pushed his legs open and stepped in close. With Sanderson sitting down, he was a little taller than him, and that felt a little better. He licked his lips, leaning in a little closer. "You gonna kiss me?"

"Yeah," he agreed in a husky voice, reaching up to wrap a big, warm hand around the back of his neck right before he was pulled in to close the space between them. The brush of lips against his, light and careful, sent shivers down his spine and before he could think better, he was leaning in closer and breathing, "More." When his plea wasn't answered immediately, he chased after it, eagerly seeking what he wanted - even if he wasn't entirely sure what that was.

Sam's head was spinning. He'd meant to keep things soft and sweet, give Dean the same kind of teasing kiss that Dean had given him on his fourteenth birthday, but he hadn't counted on just how good it would be to feel his brother's lips against his again. With all the shiit they'd been through in the last few years, he could count on one hand the number of times he'd gotten more than an adrenaline-fueled fuck. They sure as hell hadn't taken the time to just kiss in years. And Dean had always loved kissing, even if he tried his best not to show it. 

This Dean was no different. When he leaned in closer so he could get more, Sam knew he shouldn't give it to him. But he'd never been able to turn away from Dean, even when he tried. He traced the curve of his brother's lips with his tongue, only to feel Dean open for it like he'd been waiting for it. Sam rewarded him with a quick stroke of his tongue over Dean's, just a quick taste, but it unleashed a tiger.

One moment he was kissing Dean and the next he had a lapful of eager, inexperienced virgin brother. "Thought you didn't kiss," he teased, smiling as he dodged an attempt to pull him back in when they had to break apart to breathe.

"I don't," Dean growled, moving in for another kiss. "You're my first."

This was Dean's first kiss?!? The thought probably shouldn't make Sam want to jump up and down and scream 'whoopee!' (or something far less girly, which he'd come up with as soon as the blood started going back to his brain, but that wasn't happening anytime soon with Dean straddling his lap, so whoopee would have to do for now). It probably also wasn't supposed to make him hard as nails, but again - Dean. Straddling his lap. And whimpering, for Chrissake. "Glad I could be your first."

Dean moaned into his mouth, then pulled back to stare at him. And for just a second, Sam thought he'd been made, that the jig was up and he was about to laugh and call him Sammy. But instead, he asked, "What's your real name?"

"Sam," he told him, kissing him briefly again. He should offer up one of his aliases but he couldn't lie to Dean. Not when they were like this. He'd never been able to do that, which was why he'd had to stop sleeping with him when -

Dean's mouth on his cut that thought off before it could really form, and Sam was grateful for it. He kissed him back, hot and wet, forgetting for just a moment that it wasn't his Dean in his arms. When Dean wrenched his mouth away to gasp for breath, kissing turned to licking, and then sucking as Sam made his way down along the line of his brother's neck and back up. He spread his hand open on his back, amazed at how much space he took up, and it was almost enough to make him pull away until Dean let out this whimpering noise, and then Sam just had to explore that spot, sucking a little harder before he bit down gently.

"Don't stop," Dean panted, squirming against him as he tried to get closer. "You got me going, dude. Can't stop now."

Sam wanted to promise that he wouldn't stop, not now and not ever, but he knew he had to keep his head. But it was tempting. So very tempting to just forget about everything except Dean and the way he was rocking against him. He wanted to thrust up against him, drive them both crazy until they were both moaning and coming in their pants like they'd done so many times before this. But this wasn't his to take. This was another Sam's, and he couldn't cheat him of that. "We should - God, we should stop," he gritted out.

"I'm not a kid," was the sullen response, and Sam's heart broke a little. Because for all of his protests, he was. Dean had never seemed young to him before, had always known exactly what he was doing and where they were going, but looking at him now, Sam realized that he was just a kid. A kid who was raising another kid.

Still, he couldn't tell him that, not unless he wanted to get punched right in the nose. "I know," he assured him, and he knew that that was true as well. There was no innocence in the green eyes that watched him, just hunger and heat and so many things that made him want to stay right here. Instead, he reached out to rub his fingers over the amulet he wore. "You said your brother gave this to you, right?"

"Yeah." Dean reached up to ease it out of his grasp, then dropped it inside his shirt, probably to keep his hands off it. He'd always gotten touchy about anybody that wasn't Sam or him handling it. "Guess I should go," he sighed, but he didn't move, not an inch.

"Whenever you want," he assured him, unable to keep from stealing another kiss, needing one more before Dean left. 

He kissed him back, and that set off another round of lazy making out. "I need to check on my brother," Dean managed to say between kisses, and Sam wondered if he was reminding himself as well. Brother and duty had always come first with Dean. And apparently the reminder was enough to get him out of Sam's lap, hands in his pockets, scuffing the ground with his sneaker. "Maybe I'll see you again sometime?" he asked casually.

There was no way he could know how long it would be before he'd see him like this. But Sam just smiled and nodded. "Yeah, you will. I promise." He knew Dean wasn't likely to believe his promise, since he generally only trusted promises from Dad and Bobby, but he couldn't help making it all the same. "You, uh, you'll be okay, right? Until your dad gets back?"

"Yeah. We'll be fine." Dean straightened his back and glanced over his shoulder, probably in the direction of their apartment. 

He licked his lips, still tasting Dean, and it took everything he had not to pull him back in for more. "Listen, I know it's rough, taking care of your brother on your own and all, but you shouldn't -" But he couldn't tell Dean not to take care of him or worry about him, so he settled on saying, "Just... be careful, okay?"

He grinned, a shadow of his future cocky smirk. "I will. I promise," he echoed. He stood there for a moment longer before he turned around and headed off into the darkness to get the groceries and whatever else it was they needed so badly that he'd come out there to sell himself for. 

Sam told himself that Dean wasn't really walking away from him - he was just going back to his Sam. The Sam that he'd be kissing in a few years, the Sam that was even now probably tucked in bed dreaming, unaware of what his brother had been willing to do to ensure that he had food to eat and clothes to wear and books to read. It was ridiculous to be jealous of himself, but Sam found himself almost hating that other boy, who had years ahead of him with his brother by his side, while he was - well, he hoped he wasn't stuck, that Dean could find him, but he didn't know. He waited until Dean had left before he pushed himself to his feet and took a step, then staggered as the world spun around him again, this time sending him to his knees.


	3. Chapter 3

"CAS!" Dean screamed up at the sky. He was running out of ideas, and as much as he didn't want to, that meant he had to talk to Castiel again before he ganked the asshole. He'd already called Bobby, along with everyone and anyone else that he thought might've been able to help. He'd even summoned Crowley and tried to cut a deal, but all he'd gotten was sarcasm instead of help. He took a swig from the bottle in his hand and yelled, "BRING MY BROTHER BACK RIGHT NOW, YOU SON OF A BITCH! "

"I can't." When Dean turned around, Castiel was standing there staring at him with a steady gaze, like nothing at all was wrong. "I don't know how it happened, but somehow Sam has managed to place himself beyond my reach."

"What the hell do you mean?" he growled. "You did it to him, whatever the hell it is. Now bring him the fuck back before I find a way to torch your feathery ass for good."

"I removed your brother from this timestream," Castiel informed him. "It was necessary to ensure that you would not interfere with what I had to do. But within his travels, Sam has... vanished from my radar, I suppose you would say."

"So how do I get him back?" It was the only question he needed an answer to, the only one that really mattered. Once he had Sam back, he was going to make sure he put an end to the angel. He'd messed with Sam, and that took him from friend and ally to the top of Dean's hit list of supernatural dicks that needed killing.

The angel regarded him with clear sympathy before he said quietly, "I'm not sure you can."

"Then I'll fucking raise someone from Hell that can." He'd set it all on fire if that's what it took to get his brother back. Until then, he'd gladly let the world burn.

"Dean, you could harrow Hell like Christ himself, but none there will have the power to bring Sam back," Castiel warned. "Crowley already told you that."

"Oh, I don't know about that. Lucifer and Michael have more power than both of you," he shot back, smirking at him. "And I'm sure they'd be grateful enough to help out if I let them out again." Even if he had help put them there in the first place.

"They will obliterate you without a second thought." Castiel studied him for a minute, then offered, "I will see what I can do."

"You better do better than just seeing, cause otherwise the first thing I'm gonna do when I turn those two loose is point them right in your direction so they can smoke your self-righteous ass into little tiny pieces of angel dust." Dean didn't care if the price was his death; it would be worth it if they killed Cas for him. And at least Sam would be waiting for him on the other side. Better a sucky Heaven that he shared with Sam than an awesome one all by himself. Without waiting for an answer, he yanked the Impala's door open and got inside, revving the engine to a roar before he peeled out.

Bobby didn't seem all that surprised to see him come stomping into the house. "No help from your guardian angel, huh?" he called out over the slamming door.

"First thing I'm gonna do when Sam gets back is kill Cas," he promised, sinking down into a chair with a sigh. Jesus, he was tired. He ran a hand over his face and tried to focus. "He said something about him being out of time and now he's outta reach, so he can't get him back. "

"So it sounds like what we need is one hell of a ramped up locator spell," Bobby said, going over to the bookshelf to pull a few volumes out. "You got anything of his? And I don't mean a shirt or anything like that. We're gonna need something pretty damn special."

Dean shook his head, leaning over to brace his arms on his knees as he tried to keep it together. He couldn't think of something of Sam's that was really that special - unless you counted him. He was Sam's, had been for years. "I don't suppose the laptop would work?"

Bobby actually considered that for a moment, then shook his head. "Nah. They're usually talking something special - 'near and dear to the heart', that kinda thing." He sighed and opened the book. "I'll see what I can do, but we're gonna need a catalyst for the spell, so you better start thinking."

"What do you want me to read?" He needed to something, anything to help. He couldn't just sit here and hope for the best, not when he'd used up all the resources he'd been able to come up with. He'd gone through threats and promises, but so far he was still as lost as he'd been the second Sam disappeared.

"I don't need you to read anything, jackass. I need you to go sort through Sam's stuff and find something that means a lot to that boy!" He shook his head as he turned back to the book. "Damn idjits, gonna drive me around the bend one of these days."

Dean didn't bother to reply, just pushed himself to his feet and went out to open the trunk of the car. He didn't want to go through Sam's things because it was too much like the last time, when he'd thought Sam was gone for good and he had to say goodbye to him. Even then, it had taken six weeks and countless bottles of Jack before he'd even begun to be ready for that. He spent hours in the car, going through his brother's bag, sifting through clothes and files on his laptop (even turning up porn he'd never expected to find) but nothing stood out as having any special meaning. He was looking through some old photos that he'd thought were gone forever when he saw it. Him and Sam, sitting on the hood of the Impala grinning out at the camera that Dean was holding at arm's length. God, they were just kids - he couldn't have been more than 12, maybe 13, and Sam was just a kid. God, he missed that bright smile, missed being his whole world the way he had been back then. He stared at it for a few minutes, trying to think about when they'd taken that before he realized just what he was looking at. Shoving the rest of the photos back into Sam's bag, he hurried into the house and waved the photo at Bobby. "I found it!"

Bobby took the picture and looked at it, then handed it back. "You were two pretty cute little squirts, but a photo ain't gonna do it. Just in case you haven't been listening, we're talkin' about some major mojo, here."

"Not the photo, Bobby." Dean pointed to his own image. "The amulet. Sam gave it to me the Christmas before we took this. He said it was special." But it had been more than special. It had been theirs.

"Yeah, I remember that," the old hunter chuckled. "Boy came looking for a present for your Daddy and I let him rummage through a box of old junk in the basement, told him it was special so he'd feel better about it." He shook his head. "Never guessed it really was. But I thought you gave that to Cas to help out with his God-hunt."

Shit. Dean looked down at the photo for a long minute before he finally licked his lips, his heart aching as he confessed, "I threw it away. After we came back from Heaven..." And there was no way to get it back, either. It was in some dump by now, rotting away with everything else.

"You threw it -" Bobby cut himself off when he turned around and got a look at Dean's face. He cleared his throat and asked gruffly, "You think Sam mighta fished it out of the trash or something?"

"I didn't find it in his bags," he told him, slipping the picture inside his jacket with a sigh.

"Guess that's a dead end, then. Less you wanna go sorting through dumps or whatever."

"Can we do a locator spell on the amulet and then use it to find Sam?"

Bobby shook his head. "Something like that, you put a locator spell on it, then try using it to anchor another, you're just asking for trouble. Gonna have to find it by hand if you want it back." He started to go back to his book, then added, "Or see if that damn angel can find it, assuming he isn't planning on trying to play God anymore."

"I think the whole power trip's over with." Cas had actually called himself God there for a few seconds before the power he'd channeled from Purgatory had overloaded him and left him screaming in pain before it burned out. "But I'm pretty sure that promising to burn his feathery ass isn't going to get him to help out."

Bobby grunted, the sound an agreement and an order to go away all in one, and Dean shook his head. "Listen, I'm gonna… go check on some stuff. Call me if you find anything." There was only one place he could even consider checking, and while it was probably a lost cause, he figured it was worth a shot.


	4. Chapter 4

Dean had given up on the research a few hours ago. That was always Sam's thing, computers and books and all that shit. But he wasn't thinking about that now, how Sam should still be there with him, working the case right along with him. He'd showered and jerked off almost mechanically, then changed into a fresh shirt and clean jeans, then headed out for a drink and maybe a little action, something to take his mind off it all.

What he didn't expect was to see some guy kneeling in the road. He managed to hit the brakes to keep from running him over, but it was a close thing. Throwing the car in park, he shoved the door open and got out, ready to give the crazy idiot a piece of his mind - and a silver bullet in the heart if he turned out to be the werewolf he was looking for.

The guy had managed to get to his feet, so at least he wasn't injured. "Cas!" he was yelling up at the sky. "Castiel! What the hell did you do to me, you fucking bastard?!?"

Yeah, definitely crazy. Dean held his hands up as he took a careful step towards him. "Whoa, easy there, man. I don't think you're gonna get an answer."

"Yeah, that's the problem," he muttered, raking a hand through his hair before he turned around. And holy shit

"Sammy?!?" He could hardly believe his brother was there. In Portland. In the middle of the road. 

"Hey, Dean," he said, offering him a weak smile. And Jesus, when did Sam get so... so big?!? He was freaking huge! "Um, surprise?"

"Get in the car, Sam." It wasn't a question and he wasn't about to take no for an answer. "Now."

To Sam's credit, he didn't bother to argue, just nodded and hurried around to the passenger side to pull the door open and get in the car. Dean got behind the wheel and looked over at him. "You wanna tell me what the hell is going on here?" he asked, turning the car around, heading back to the motel on autopilot. He'd be surprised if Sam spilled that easy, but it was worth a shot.

Still, he wasn't that surprised when Sam just looked at him, then shrugged and said, " It's a long story."

Of course it was. Dean didn't bother to ask anymore, just drove back to the motel and pulled up in front of the room. "You look like you could use a shower," he pointed out, and he really knew something was wrong when Sam just nodded and trudged into the bathroom, not even seeming to notice when Dean picked his pocket on his way past him. A few seconds later, he heard the water turn on for what was undoubtedly going to be a long shower. Sammy always had liked his showers - always stayed in there until Dean or Dad dragged him out.

Dean tossed the wallet on the table, grabbed his bag and started digging through it. Somewhere in there he had to have something that might fit, maybe something of Dad's since he doubted his jeans were going to cut it like they used to. When he found something he thought might do, he grabbed them and took them over to the bathroom, where the water had finally shut off. "Got you some clothes," he called out, opening the door and holding them out. "Those things you were wearing need a serious wash, man."

"Yeah, I know," Sam replied, taking the clothes from him. Dean leaned against the door once it shut again, listening to the faint sounds of Sam getting dressed in the bathroom. He was starting to relax until he heard Sam call out, "Where's Dad?"

"Somewhere on the east coast," he said, pushing off the door so he could go back to the table to start going through Sam's wallet. "Least he was last time I heard from him."

The door swung open and Sam stepped out. Dean took a second to look at him, really look at him like he hadn't when he'd first come across him. He was still undeniably Sammy, with those cat-slant eyes and too-long hair, but he wasn't the brother he'd put on the bus to Stanford a year and a half ago. And this wasn't just the result of a couple years' worth of growing, either. This was something different, something that had supernatural written all over it, something he wasn't about to ignore, no matter how tempting it was to just enjoy having his brother back, even if it was only a little while. 

"You wanna tell me why your ID says it was renewed last year in 2011?" He asked, sliding it out and holding it up. "And don't try telling me it's a fake - I know my own work when I see it and this is real."

Sam froze like a rabbit under a hawk's gaze. "You walked right in here over the salt line, so you aren't a demon or a ghost, but that doesn't mean you couldn't be some kinda shifter. So, way I see it, we got two choices - you can spill or I can cut it out of ya."

He could see his brother's throat move as he swallowed. "I'm, uh, I'm not the Sam you think I am," he said carefully. "I'm kind of... from the future."

Dean laughed. "Yeah, right. So how'd you get here, then, future boy?"

"I don't know - not exactly." Sam sighed and ran a hand through his hair. "When is here, anyway?"

"March, 2005." He watched his brother's face, seeing shock and sorrow play out over his features. "That mean something to you?"

"Not particularly." But that wasn't the complete truth. Still, Dean decided to let it go for now. Pushing Sam was usually the quickest way to get him to shut down. Instead, he tossed his wallet back at him. "Here. I'd say you're paying for dinner, but your money's probably all future cash."

"Thanks." Sam shoved the wallet in his pocket, but he didn't stop staring at him. Dean was about to ask if he had something on his face when Sam asked, "You remember when I gave you that?"

He glanced down to see what he was looking at. "What, my amulet?" Raising one hand to touch it, he nodded. "Yeah, sure. Why?"

Sam just shook his head. "Never mind." He had that look on his face again, the one that made Dean want to hurt whoever or whatever had put it there and at the same time go hide under the bed like a little kid. He was staring to think that maybe he didn't want to know what this Sam had gone through, not if he couldn't stop it. But if he was here... he had to be here for a reason, didn't he? 

Shoving those thoughts away, he dug his phone out and grabbed the flyer that had been under the door yesterday so he could call for Chinese. He ordered the usual - almond chicken for him, chicken and broccoli for Sam, and plenty of egg rolls and BBQ pork for them to split. When Sam got that look that said he was doing the math for the bill, he dug his wallet out and held it up. "Courtesy of Jackson Molinar," he told him once he hung up the phone.

Sam's lips twitched. "Jackson Molinar? Really, Dean? You sure you didn't want to make it Jonathan Walker Dennison?" 

"Hey now, don't hate on Dr. Sexy," he said mildly. "It's a great show." Not to mention that Dr Sexy was one hot-ass dude. "Is it still on or did some network asshat cancel it?"

"I think it is." Sam looked thoughtful. "I'm not sure, but then I haven't been paying much attention to TV lately."

Which meant that whatever was going on, things were bad. And he needed to get to the bottom of this as soon as possible. "So I know we don't wanna get into a whole Back to the Future fuckup, but there's gotta be something you can tell me, right?" When Sam didn't answer, he tried a different tactic. "C'mon, Sammy, you can tell me. You marry that hot girlfriend of yours, gonna settle down and pop out some kids, have that nice white picket fence?"

Sam's whole face went tight and hard. "I'm not married," he said quietly, then added,."Jess... Jess died. A long time ago."

Shit. There was no doubt that her death still hurt him. "I'm sorry man," he offered, wishing now that he hadn't asked. Sam nodded and they didn't say anything else for a while until a knock on the door made them both jump. "Food's here," Dean said, going to answer the door and pay. He came back with two plastic bags that he set down on the table. "Okay, dig in."

Sam pulled two cartons out, opened one and passed it to Dean, then opened the other and dug in the bag for chopsticks. Dean grabbed the paper bag with the egg rolls and claimed the first one for himself. "So you're hunting again," he commented, taking a bite of egg roll, doing his best to keep the whole thing casual. It wasn't a question. Sam wouldn't have been that jumpy over the door if he wasn't. Not to mention the whole time-traveling thing. "Better not be trying to do it on your own."

"Haven't tried to go it alone for a while now," he agreed, and Dean wondered what the hell had possessed him to give it a try in the first place. "But it's - it hasn't been easy, man. Things are... different."

"Different how?" And why wasn't he right by Sammy's side the second his girlfriend died? Why had Sam hunted more than a week alone? Hadn't he told Dean about it? Or was he not around? Did whatever killed his girlfriend get him, too?

Sam's laugh was bitter. "You have no idea, man." He shook his head. "It's - I mean, we're -" He sighed heavily. "We nearly weren't brothers anymore for a while, there."

Not brothers?!? "What? How the hell is that possible?" There was no way that Dean would let that happen, even if he'd been pissed and broken when Sam left him for Stanford. That hadn't split them up, so there was sure as hell no way that he'd let that happen if they were together.

"I fucked us up," was the blunt answer. "And now you're - I mean, you're there, but it's different and it's not -" His mouth worked like he was trying not to cry as he said, "It's all kinds of screwed up."

How the hell had Sam fucked them up? He set his carton aside and leaned forward, bracing his arms on his knees. "Look, I know I don't know what's happened, but you gotta know something, Sammy. Doesn't matter what happens, nothing's ever gonna change the way I feel about you." It was the only assurance he could offer without any real information, but he knew it was the one thing that would never change.

Sam shook his head. "I changed it," he argued, absolutely sure he was right, just like he had been when he used to throw down with Dad. "I - God, Dean. The things I said to you, and then we -" He shook his head. "I'm a monster," he muttered. "And I don't think I can be saved."

Dean dropped to his knees in front of Sam, reaching out to lay a hand on his knee. "You're not a monster, Sammy." He saw his brother take a sharp breath, not sure if it was the assurance or the name that had done it. "I mean it, man. I don't care what's happened - you're my brother. It's me and you, remember? No matter what happens, it's us against the world, and when you get back there, you kick my ass up between my shoulders and remind me of that, you got it?"

The sad smile he got in return was enough to break his heart. "Yeah, I got it." He reached out to touch the amulet, then moved up to trace Dean's mouth. "I miss you."

God, he hated seeing him hurt like this. It might not be his Sammy in front of him, but it was some Dean's Sammy and he owed it to that Dean to make him feel better. He stared at him for a minute, then leaned in and kissed him, slow and easy, not rushing or doing anything but enjoying the sweet taste of Sam, just like he had ever since that first kiss when Sam was fourteen.

When they had to pull back to breathe, Sam gave him a shaky smile. "Does this mean I get to sleep with you tonight?"

Dean didn't even bother to try to stop the soft chuckle that slipped out. "Where else did you think you were sleeping?" he teased, squeezing his knee as he leaned in again for another kiss. They traded soft kisses for several minutes before Dean got to his feet and opened his jeans, shoving them without thinking. His shirts were next, and once he was down to just his underwear, he reached out to grab Sam's hand to tug him to his feet. He didn't say anything, just pulled the covers back and climbed in, waiting for Sam to follow just like he always did.

Sure enough, Sam waited only long enough to strip down to his own underwear before he climbed in behind him, sliding up close to wrap an arm around him. "Bigger guy, bigger spoon," he teased softly

Dean chuckled, remembering how he used to say that when Sam would complain about getting spooned when they were younger. "Think I knew even then that you'd end up bigger than me." But he couldn't have predicted that Sam would turn out to be some kind of freaking giant. Not that he was complaining - it was kind of nice to have someone bigger than him in bed with him, actually. Of course, he wasn't about to tell Sam that.

Sam kissed the back of his neck and sighed. "Thanks, man. I - this... I really appreciate it."

It might be selfish, but Dean wished this Sam could stay. "Don't have to thank me for anything," he told him, running a hand over the arm that was wrapped around him. He could feel the strength there, as well as a few new scars, and he ended up tracing them without thinking about it. For the first time since Sam had left, he felt good, warm and content, and he was looking forward to a good night's sleep. "I love you, Sammy. Know I don't say it much, but I always feel it. You know that, right?"

There was only a small hesitation before Sam agreed, "Yeah, I know." His hand drifted up to curl around Dean's amulet, holding onto it as though it could somehow keep him there. "Love you," he muttered, his voice already heavy with sleep.

Dean smiled, enjoying how right it felt to have Sam back with him. There was still a lot to figure out, including what had brought him there and how they were going to set it all right, but they could deal with that in the morning. "Get some sleep, Sammy. We'll talk more in the morning."


End file.
